DC feels like a sauna. I freakin' hate it!
I left my apartment at , and it was humid and 75 degrees outside. I could see the swimming pool from a distance and a naughty grin spreads all over my face, what if I’ll skip work and have a blast in the pool the whole day. I shook the idea off and kept on walking. From my apartment to the metro, I have a good fifteen-minute walk. By the time I get to my train, I’m all sweaty and disheveled. Embarrassment takes over as beads of sweat trickles all over my face and neck, yuck. I’d plop myself to the nearest empty seat and start wiping my face. After regaining my composure, I sat up and desperately searched in my bag for something I can use as pa-id (fan). Give me anything - a piece of paper, cardboard, or even a receipt would do. The train stops to pick up passengers at UDC and a lady walks in, in business suit, full make-up and not even a hint of sweat. WTF! What is it about this "other" women that don't sweat? Do they know something I don't know? The lady finds a seat and proceeded to work on her laptop, while I fanned myself with a yellow, sticky note.